We Never Know All the People Whose Lives We Have Touched – Jacki Kellum Memoir


I am an exuberant, effusive person. While I am sure that I have totally disgusted many with my exclamations about life, something happened this week that humbled me–just a bit.

I had written a post about the dysfunction and the lack of communication within my family. I did not expect much response at all. Everyone talks about their dysfunctional families now. Dysfunction has become a buzz word. When I write something in my blog, WordPress automatically posts it on my Facebook page. Within several minutes of the post’s having been published, I received the following unexpected comment from a person that I hardly knew over fifty years ago and who I have not spoken to since that time:

Sorry to hear about the hard feelings, but family will always be family. I will share something with you that may put a smile on your face. The strongest memory I have of you is one day in band you were taking to one of your girl friends and I overheard the conversation. You had been to see South Pacific and you were completely over whammed but it. I can still hear the excitement in your voice as you described in detail the story line, music and the setting. Funny I have no idea why I would have remembered this.

I have no idea why he remembered that either. I don’t even remember that occasion. I am quite sure that I never knew that anyone other than the person beside me was listening. Yet, again, I am made aware that we do not always know all the people whose lives we have touched–either for the good or the bad.  At times, someone may cool toward us, and we may be left to consider that perhaps this or that may have offended. I suspect, however, that what we actually see in other peoples’ responses toward us in only the tip of an iceberg. Lying deep below the surface, there must be many who have felt one way or another about us–merely because of the ways that we conduct the public portions of our lives.


As I ponder upon that thought, I am left, wishing that I really were truly magic–and that I could erase the things that I have done to hurt and could physically embrace the people that seen something about me that is good. Here

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Secret Admirers.”


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